


==>Jade and Karkat: Get Grub

by Quilly



Series: Married with Grubs [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, Phase One, also an explosion, also in which there is a wedding at the Sherlockbound Vegas equivalent, and also adopt a grub, but that's not part of the wedding, co-authored and including naughty words, in which jade and karkat have a mondo disagreement, incredibly self-indulgent babyfic, of the Married with Grubs event, oh my, part of the Sherlockbound/Fun with Dirk and Jane universe, say hello Dustin Makara Harley, who happens to be a Makara by birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jade Harley and you stick to your convictions.<br/>___<br/>Your name is Karkat Vantas and so do you.</p><p>(Part of the Married with Grubs event for the Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane series. Phase One: Babies, 3/6)</p>
            </blockquote>





	==>Jade and Karkat: Get Grub

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! This is an event going on at the Sherlockbound askblog (asksherlockbound.tumblr.com, check the sidebar for the Married with Grubs button) and I'm moving the drabbles over to here for other people to access, so voila! This is the third of six in Phase One: Babies of that event! If you're curious about what Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane is, check my page for the series Life with Dirk and Jane! 
> 
> This one was co-authored by my terrible wonderful matesprit and enabler, Sam, which is why, uncharacteristically of me, it includes swear words. Most of the swear words, as well as the framework of the idea and a good half of the writing, is hers. The editing and the other half of the writing is mine. 
> 
> Enjoy!

==>Jade: Clean Up

Your name is Jade Harley and it started in the pumpkin cottage.  

 

The place is still trashed and signs of the two mini-Striders will probably be carved into the little cottage for some time. Still, Karkat had stopped fighting back his smile somewhere around the time Dakota learned that if he made his eyes super big, Uncle Karkat would let him ride around on piggyback for hours. Yeah, it was pretty clear that he was hooked on the kids from that point on.

You and Karkat had agreed to watch them because Dirk and Jane were too busy being newlyweds and Rose and Kanaya had their own little ones to deal with. It isn’t until three hours later, after Dave has finally managed to wrangle the kids into the van, that you two even attempt to start cleaning up.

The living room is mostly just clutter, with DVDs stacked in what is basically a fort with one wall collapsed  and what looks like a pile of lose crayons on the carpet, which you are not going to look into right this moment. But you make a note to get a steam cleaner later. So, kitchen first. You roll your sleeves up and get started.

The island has been wiped clean and a small army of cleaners has taken the place of sandwich crusts and jelly stains. There are handprints on the counters that could be made of either paint or marker ink. Mostly it seems a food-based mess. You pop your back and sigh. You’re pretty exhausted. Two little boys are a lot of work!

You barely manage to get the kitchen wiped down before two gray-skinned arms wrap around your middle. He’s doing that rumbling thing that only trolls seemed capable of. Not quiet purring, but oh-so-close.

“Tired?”

“Nope.” It’s in the very un-Karkat way he pops the P that you know you should probably prepare yourself for something. The soft nibbling on your collarbone and the smile you feel on your skin tells you that you have nothing to be worried about. You aren’t as tired as you were five seconds ago, though.

==>

You’re still lying in bed several hours later, you half-dozing on Karkat’s chest while he plays with strands of your hair. You are sure he has something on his mind, but you’re just going let him take his sweet time if he’s going to keep running those mostly-blunt claws of his against your scalp. Between that and the beat of his heart—or whatever long-winded troll vocabulary he uses—under your ear, you are being lured into sleep.

“So…I was thinking…”

“Uh-huh.”  Is the completely intelligent response he gets from you.

“I was thinking that maybe we should…I don’t know…have a grub?”

“Uh…wha…” you yawn and nudge his hand when it goes still. He rolls his eyes and goes back to stroking your hair.

“A grub.” A jab to your side wakes you up a little more. You turn very annoyed eyes up at the blushing face of your troll boyfriend.

He’s biting the very edge of his bottom lip. Not much, and it isn’t something he does very often. You saw it a lot before your relationship got physical, back when he was fighting trying to make the first move. His eyes look at everything but you. You are still way too tired to deal with whatever odd troll eating habit this is about. Grubs. What a weird thing to bring up during cuddling.

“Those things you eat? I think we have some in the kitchen.”  You huff and try to bury your face back into his chest.

“ _What?_ No, a grub is a…urgh.”   He shoves you off of his chest so he can sit up. Blinking, you reach across the grumbling troll for your glasses. You’re going to have an actual conversation about food, then. Fine! God, you love him, but he can be strange. 

“I want a baby!” He glares you, willing you to finally understand with just his eyes. Apparently it’s a big deal. And. Oh. It actually _is_ a big deal. A _really_ big deal, and you can tell he’s been thinking it over all day. But your mind isn’t quiiiiite there yet.

“You…you name your food after baby trolls? That’s kind of sick, Karkat.” You scrunch your face at him from behind your glasses. He frowns, and then what you’re talking about seems to click. Finally, you’re on the same page.

“Wha…that’s not the point! Trolls are shit at naming things, yes, but that is not the topic of conversation here! Just answer the question!” he snaps.

“What question?” You throw your hands up.

“I want a grub.”

“That’s not a question,” you protest. “There wasn’t even a question mark. More like a period—hell, an exclamation point, even!”

“It was a question. And stop getting off-topic.”

“No, it…”

“Shhhh. Grub.” He presses a finger to the side of your mouth in a mock attempt at silencing you. You are apparently paying attention to the wrong parts again. You glare and lick his finger.

 “That wasn’t a question—and get your finger away from my mouth or I’ll bite it—a question is ‘hey, I was thinking maybe we should have kids, what do you think?’”

“Fine,” he huffs. “Maybe I think we should have kids?” Sarcasm drips from his voice and he shoots you a look from across the bed that is a talented mix of bored, so done, and about to flip off the handle. You take a moment to mentally applaud him before you go back to the mental gymnastics that is understanding what exactly he’s telling you he wants right now when your brain is still in cuddle mode.

That still isn’t a question, though. You tell him so. He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I just wanted to discuss have kids with you, but if you’re gonna get all picky about _semantics_ —”

“I’m not getting _picky_ , I’m being correct! But maybe I want to have kids with you, too!” Your face is a little red and you’d leaned into him, as if yelling in his face would get the point across more. It’s how your little non-fights go, usually. Proximity both shows dominance and possibly ends in more sexytimes, which are both positives for you. He clamps his mouth shut, which is the important part, and you start parsing together what he just said.

Your face softens as it finally connects. Congratulations, your neurons have finally fired in the correct sequence and you have just realized that your boyfriend wants to raise children with you!

 “A baby…” Your hands move to rest on your bare, flat stomach. You’ve never given children much thought. You like them—not in the lab, of course—but having some of your own… “I don’t think I could carry one, but I’m sure we could work something up in the lab. Ah, but how to combine the two conflicting DNA codes…”

“What? No, Jade—”

You’re in Science Mode now. There is no time to slow down and listen to silly things like _reason!_ “…I would need a sample of your DNA to play around with, and may be some other trolls as well, just to test. Trial and error…”

“Jade, that’s not—”

“It would take a long time to get all the moving parts to line up. And even then, the science for it isn’t on stable ground yet. Or my expertise, but if you can wait—”

 Reaching over, Karkat grabs the sides of your face and turns you so you’re looking directly into his eyes. You know he loves your science rants (even though it feeds into some silly belief he has that you’re too good for him. What a dumb thought). But you guess he needs you to actually focus this time. His hands are firm and steady.

“Jade, I meant I want to go to the brooding caverns and get a grub.”

“Oh.” Your face doesn’t relax. “Of course. That would make more sense.”

Your face slides into a pensive  brood when he’s done kissing you and you don’t think he notices.

==>Karkat: Await Your Fate

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are being kidnapped. You are being driven away completely against your will, and this time you’re pretty sure Gamzee isn’t going to be coming for you. One glance at your bucktooth-faced captor and you’re positive that the goofy idiot is even in on this. You have to wonder if Gamzee is aware the letting Jade behind the wheel of a car is considered reckless endangerment. Considering the way he drives, you really doubt it.

The large metal sign proclaiming that you are now leaving Altville is the last straw, your claws still slightly digging into the armrest of the passenger seat as you glare over at the bouncy black-haired woman in the driver’s seat. She’s dancing to some mind-numbing pop song, singing along loudly and off-key. She checks her phone once—pretty much doing everything but keeping her car on the road.

“Are you planning on telling me what abandoned moobeast-filled field you are taking me to hide my mangled mutated corpse in, Harley?” you grump at her, more to get her attention than anything. Kidnappee here, awaiting rescue and also a change in the radio station. And an _answer_ from your girlfriend!

Jade is apparently going to ignore you till the song is over. Super. When it does end, she grins at you.

“I’m not taking you out to kill you, silly. It’s a surprise vacation!”

Surprise vacation means a weekend in Derse City with Dave, Terezi, Rose, Kanaya, and John and Vriska, as it turns out. Though, as soon as she sees the giant pirate ship in the middle of the casino, Vriska takes off with John hot on her trail, yelling something about commandeering. It’s been some time since you’ve seen Rose looking so healthy; her pregnancy had not been an easy one.  Dave and Terezi are apparently trying to see just how uncomfortable they can make the Jade-proclaimed Guest of Honor. Guess which unfortunate grubmunch that is. You grit your teeth and stop trying to reach for a gun that isn’t there. Jade teleported it away from you when she came to pick you up.

“Don’t care,” you mumble as security comes to pull John and his deranged wife off the pirate ship, “I’m off duty, as long as one of those blithering grubfisted douchebags doesn’t break the law…I couldn’t care less.”

Jade grins and plants a smooch on your jaw. “Just relax and have fun, fuckass.”

Later, you had had to stop Dave from trying to propose to you in the middle of the front lobby, followed by Terezi loudly proclaiming that she could not stand for this injustice since she had called dibs first. Since your hand was in Strider’s face—trying to push it away from your own—it became a casualty to Terezi’s tongue. Gog, you thought you were _done_ being licked by that piranha in troll’s clothing. You beat Dave away with your suit jacket and sprint to catch up with Jade before Terezi can do any more damage with her mouth.

You and Jade finally made it up to your room so you could change out of your work clothes and into whatever outfit Harley picked out for you. Your kidnapper is currently hiding in the bathroom, proclaiming she has a surprise for you, so you have to talk through the overly gaudy door that’s painted to look like a coral reef. Feferi would have a field day in this place. Hell, probably already did, since her hatchmate owns it.

“You mind telling me why we’re here with the idiot brigade, Harley?” you ask, pulling on a worn pair of jeans and forgoing a shirt for a bit to check yourself out a little. Still a little paunchy, but hey, that’s rock-solid muscle underneath. You look good, Detective, real good. Then you slap yourself and pull on a shirt like a decent living being.

A soft thud and a muttered cursed follows from the bathroom. “We are here because you need it.” She’s silent for a bit, but when she speaks again it sounds like she’s leaning right up against the door. “We both needed this. You’ve been off ever since they turned us down at the caverns. I figured a weekend with friends and gambling and just no responsibilities would be good for you. You could mother everyone again. I know you like it.”

The amount of pity, love, whatever term the universe wants to use for what you feel for one Jade Harley surprises you sometimes. It also reminds you that she is way too good for you still.

“ Dork.”  You’re not even sure she can hear you through the door, but whatever, she’s right. You thought you’d been able to cover up how disappointed you were that the brooding caverns dismissed you on account of you and Jade being an interspecies couple and not married (stupid humans and their traditions, you’d quadrantlock her here and now if you could, but noooo, that wouldn’t be good enough, either, since she’s _human_ and you’re a _troll_ and _everybody_ knows humans don’t use the quadrant system). You should have seen it coming, though. Jade’s one of the few good things and unarguably the best thing you’ve ever had. Why would the universe allow such an utter screw up as Karkat Vantas to raise a grub? Too much good for you will make you forget what a blight on the glistening mucous ass of the universe you are.

That self-deprecating thought does a double black flip right out of your mind, though, when the bathroom door opens and out steps Jade in…in…well, you know that the thing _should_ be a dress. It’s off-white and lacey and barely reaches the middle of her thighs. It also looks like it’s painted on, it’s so tight. Her hair is pinned up in some kind of bun that’s probably the cause of all the muted curses you’d heard. She does a little spin in the door way, and—dear Gog help you, it’s backless, too.

“Eridan helped me pick it out!” she giggles. You swallow and adjust the waistband of your jeans, fiddling with loose threads. “Do you like it?”

“Do we have to leave this room?” you ask, voice way more husky than you intended but that dress is _doing things_ to you. When did her legs get so long. She laughs and kisses the tip of your nose, then takes your hand and drags you out into the casino.

There is a very high chance that you are going to jail tonight. Every time another drunk in a hand-me-down suit inches just a little closer to Jade, the chance gets higher. You’re not on duty, but you are still a cop. It isn’t helping that Jade doesn’t seem to notice that the bartender’s eyes don’t quite reach her own when he hands her their drinks. More like they hover around her neckline and then dip down, from the angle you’re sitting. You decide that if you find an opportunity to get away with it, you will rip them out of his head and hang them in the hood of your cruiser. It’s your third or fourth drink, you’re not sure. You lost count somewhere after the third Mountain Dew.  You’ve also lost track of the others, but they aren’t wigglers and don’t need your constant fucking attention, so who cares. Let them go wreak havoc elsewhere.

 A can of cold brightly-colored green soda is shoved in your hand and Jade tosses back half of whatever fruity concoction she’s ordered. She has one hand resting on the small bar table in front of you, and by the way she sways to the side you figure she’s on fifth drink and it had vodka in it. Drunk as you are, your hand settles on her waist to help balance her.  Goofy grin in place, Jade leans down as if she has the best secret in the world to tell you. You are a little too distracted by the way her hair falls over her shoulder, the ends grazing across your lap. When had she taken it down?

“ Doesn’t Steve have the best ideas?”

“What?” Oh yeah, she’s talking, pay attention, numbnook.

“Karkaaaaaat!” your name starts as a whine, but she breaks off into a giggle that only one as drunk as she is can pull off.  “I said that Steve told me there’s a chapel here. We should go get married!” She gives a happy little bounce that ends with her losing balance and laughing louder as you catch her before she completely falls, only you’re not too balanced yourself and you both just end up on the ground with you cushioning her fall. She has a pleasant weight, you think groggily, and you definitely want to make out with her here on the floor. But she manages to get up and you follow because your brain says you need to think about something. What was it again? Oh. Right.

Married. Married sounds…nice.  You could live in the pumpkin cottage and have breakfast together every day before work. And she could help get your little grub ready for school, because of course once you’re married it’ll get easier, why didn’t you think of that instead of moping? Because you’re a pan-dead ignoramus, that’s why. You’d host Christmas parties and have family Christmas cards. There would be a white picket fence. And candle light anniversaries. Married sounds really good.  Your face splits into a grin matching hers.

“Okay.”

Years later you still can’t recall just how you gathered your friends back from the parts of the casino they had invaded. Kanaya hovers behind you, half-waiting to catch you if you fall. Dave—who had to wrestle with John for some reason, but won—stands behind Jade as her maid of honor. He refuses to be called anything else. His duty seems to be to carry her heels that she had kicked off when they entered.

Not a single one could recall the service in later years, though Rose had recorded it all. What none of them will forget, and possibly also the other patrons of the casino, is that the doors to the chapel are pushed open by one Jade Harley Vantas as she loudly proclaims, drink in her hand and splashing off the edge, “I’M MRS. KARKAT VANTAS!” And then she lays a kiss on her new husband—on _you_ —that earns you wolf whistles and cat calls from those nearby. This is also recorded by Rose.

“I’m gonna marry you so hard,” you murmur into her ear as you stumble up towards your hotel room, “and then—and then I’m gonna raise the fuck out of our kids. They’ll be the most—the most adorable little shits.”

She giggles back, one of her hands possibly going to try and steady herself against you but instead slipping down the back of your pants.

“They _will_ be the most adorable little shits!” she agrees happily as the two of you drunk geniuses try to figure out how to work the door key. “But right—but right now—I’m gonna frick the frack out of you, Karkat Vantas.”

You grin hugely.

And then the two of you end up passing out snoring-drunk in bed.

You’re here for about three days, so there’s plenty of time for her to frickle your frackle or whatever inane way she puts it. And also for you to give that awesome dress a proper send-off by ripping it off of her body with your teeth.  You’ll need to thank Eridan for helping her pick it out later, possibly by punching him in the nose for all the staring she got and then kissing both of his cheeks for all the times _after_.

You call her Mrs. Vantas and you call her your wife and you are pleased it’s as gratifyingly tear-inducingly _amazing_ as it is sexy.

She is way too fucking good for you.

==>

You feel a chill crawl down your spine as the faint memories from your own grubhood dance in the recess of your mind. The walls are low and damp, slimy to the touch from so many grub bodies pressing against them. Clumped sporadically in the ceiling are crystals that glow a dim blue. The smell of fresh water hangs in the air, enough that the ends of Jade’s hair start to curl due to the moisture.

There’s the sound of scratching further down the tunnels and the faint hum of grubs hissing at each other. The blue-green crystals overhead are the only real source of light save the fading glow from the entrance, but the wall just seems to steal that light out from around you. You curl your fingers around Jade’s hand a little tighter.

In front of you, a tall, silent jade-blooded female troll leads the way to where the grubs old enough for adoption are.  She’d greeted them near the entrance with a stony expression that made the smile on Jade’s face wilt a little. You’d grabbed her hand and it had returned to being that hundred-watt smile you adored so much. You can feel her hand tighten back around yours. You’d been turned away once already, but you’re married now (twice; Porrim hadn’t reacted well to the Derse City casino wedding that she wasn’t present for). There will be no problem.  It’s what Jade had been mumbling under her breath the whole car ride there. As if you couldn’t hear her, but you don’t think that’s the point.

“I will leave you here. Once you find the grub of your choosing, bring the little one to the front office and we will start on the paperwork.” There is shortness in her voice, a clipped tone that you’d noticed when witnesses where referencing mixed species couples. Polite, but silently disapproving.

Fuck her.

You’d split off a few minutes ago, each going down a different tunnel. She was being difficult and you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why. She would briefly glance over a group of grubs but never stop to look closer. Is she looking for something specific? You can’t imagine what that’d be. You’re at least taking the time to figure out which little ones don’t instinctively recoil from you. So far: all of them. Maybe parenthood wasn’t the right choice for you after all.

 It’s the unintelligible gurgle that stops you from fully putting your foot down as you turn from another hissing bundle of grubs. It sounds way too close. A slight shift to the side shows that one Officer Karkat Vantas was almost responsible for the death of a little indigo grub. It kind of just plops there on its stomach, six little legs tucked under its larval body. You shift over to give it proper space and thank every possible deity (Jegus and all his little elves, Porrim used to say) you heard it when you did.

“Oh, hey, little grub. Sorry, I…” Your words kind of die in your throat as the nearly-squashed grubbed rolls over onto its back and gives you a very, _very_ familiar smile, petite goat horns peeking out of a mess of wildly curly hair.

Oh, you are going to _kill_ him.

==>Jade: Inspect Babies

The little gurgling wigglers are adorable! Like something out of a cartoon you’d watched as a child. They are cute, but none of them are right. There is a certain shade of red that you’re looking for. Despite his constant ranting about “mutant genes”, and no matter how set against it he is, you’re still hoping to find a little candy-red grub tucked away in some unknown part of the caverns.

So far you’re having no such luck.

“Jade!” Your name seems to echo all around the caverns at first, but you can hear him coming closer.  Taking one last longing look and the pile of sleeping grubs in the corner—man, they are so _cute_ —you turned to face your husband (ooh, yeah, you’re still getting all sorts of tingles at that!).

He isn’t running and he’s actually being far more aware of his steps then you’ve ever seen him be off-duty. There’s something clutched to his chest, and you think you can make out the tiniest bit of horn tips sticking out from between his fingers.

Mutely he holds it out to you, and you lean in a little closer. It’s a little purpley-indigo grub, maybe Gamzee’s same color, a fat little grub with big curious eyes and making a loud, tinny purring sound. It wriggles a little to the edge of Karkat’s hands and reaches its spiny little legs out to touch you.

You flinch back instinctively, which startles the grub; it wobbles, then overbalances out of Karkat’s hands.

You both react, but you’re faster, snatching the grub out of the air and cradling it against your chest. It’s making a small, fast, distressed sort of wheezing. You shake back your hair and peek at the grub.

“It’s okay,” you say softly to it, holding it up a little closer to your face. “I just got a little scared. You’re okay, little one.”

Its wheezing seems to slow down into purring, and it _smiles_ , showing little baby fangs and looking so cute and _this is it_.

This is _your_ grub.

You take Karkat’s hand and together you walk back towards the mouth of the caverns to take it home.

You’re not leaving without it this time.

==>Karkat: Go Over Paperwork

When the grub is tucked into her little pile and Jade is asleep you go over the file from the caverns.

Jade seems to be convinced right now that Dustin is a boy—she’s obviously a _girl_ , wake up and smell the pheromones, Jade—but you’re both completely in love with your precious little one. You didn’t think your blood-pusher could actually expand to hold all this love. You thought you’d just have to boot someone out of your life. Like Dave.  But no. You still care about that bonehead, and you definitely belong, body and soul, to your daughter.

You love her, and therefore you know you have to get a contingency plan ready. The blood test at the caverns showed up definite Makara, but you knew that anyway, no highblood smiles like that but Gamzee’s gogawful goofy self. He’s assured you that he never donated, but if he did, she’d be the most perfectest little miracle a bro could ever ask for, ain’t she the cutest thing? You let yourself openly smile for a minute. You’re still so pale for that asshole. You wouldn’t actually mind it if it _was_ Gamzee’s grub, but you trust him, so if he says he didn’t, he didn’t. The Grand Highnookchafe flashes in your mind, but you squeeze it down. Typically trolls only ever donate once, especially older types like him with their weird-ass traditions about reproduction and casteism. It’s more likely Dustin came from Gamzee’s hatchmate’s bucket, wherever he is. You’re going on conjecture alone that he exists (it’s a strong conjecture, though; every troll your age that you know has a hatchmate Kankri’s age. Another weird generational gap, go figure).

She’s too little to worry about it now, but you know that come pupation she’s going to be developing a pan that will like way too much to mess with her. You knead your mouth with your knuckles, then pick up your cell phone.

“Bro?” Gamzee murmurs sleepily. “’s the middle of the night, somethin’ wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you say. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

You can imagine the dopey grin on his face. “Sure thing, just lemme be not up all in my cupe so we can talk proper.”

You wait, hear rustling, and then he comes back. “Now tell me what my best bro be thinkin’ to put his mind ill at ease.”

You take a deep breath and lay all your troubles at his feet—Dustin’s baby chucklevoodoos, your fears as a father, your worries about raising a kid period, balancing your job with your family, balancing your family with your marriage, if the chili you made for dinner was too spicy and is gonna come back to punch your digestion later—everything, basically, that you can think of that’s preying on your anxiety. He listens carefully and he makes little assenting noises and when you’re done he sighs, slow and heavy, and you feel it like a hug in your aural clots.

“Now bro, you bend that cute little ear of yours my way,” he says, voice gravelly with sleep and sending a shiver down your spine like a long and slow pap. “Little sis is gonna be just fine in her nug. She’s got you for a dada and Jade for a mama and if that ain’t a proper beginning I don’t know what is. ‘sides, she’s got a Uncle Gamzee what’ll teach her how to use those wicked whispers so she don’t hurt herself or anybody else none. But you got a year and a half at least before that’ll be any sort of problem, so just relax, Karbro, it’ll all be chill. You’ll see.”

You lean into the phone and release a breath through your nose. “I hope so.”

He chuckles. “I know so. Pale for you.”

“Pale for you,” you murmur. “Get some sleep.”

“On it, my fine nubby bro.”

“Oh my gog. Shut up and actually go back to bed.”

He laughs and hangs up. You rub your eyes and decide to follow suit.

==>Jade: Pass a Year in Parental Bliss

You will do just that! Having a grub—a kid—is hard, but it’s good work and you love it! You get worried when Dustin—who you now know is your precious baby girl—starts spitting little threads of grub silk, but Karkat says she’s just preparing to pupate and that when she’s done she’ll be more toddler-shaped. You were nervous, because what if something went wrong with her cocoon or she didn’t develop right, but you count all her little fingers and all her little toes and she’s perfect!

You love being a mother and having her squeaky, high little drawl call out for you when she’s done something cool or is in trouble, and you love being able to walk around with her in a sling and be able to say “Thanks!” when people tell you how cute your kid is. And she’s absolutely adorable, round face and dimples and big silver eyes and curly hair and—ooh, you could just eat her up! You never understood that phrase until you had a kid of your own. And now you do get it.

Now that she’s getting bigger, though, you’re starting to think about having a baby around the house again, and your thoughts keep going back to the idea of _making_ a baby. A lab baby, but something perfectly you _and_ Karkat. Another little one to watch Karkat gingerly hold and rock to sleep and play patty-cake with for two hours straight—that sounds nice. You watch him and Dustin a lot, and it makes you more and more interested in testing your hypothesis.

The first time you bring it back up is in the kitchen of the pumpkin cottage—the mansion hasn’t been baby-proofed ever, since Grandpa Harley didn’t believe in things like safety guards and locks on the gun racks. You’re making diner for a change because cooking can’t be that different from science (and it’s not! Go you!).  Dustin is rolling around on a bright colorful mat that Gamzee got for her. It’s supposed to be educational, but all it does is make noise when you push down on the colors.

You’ve been running over the whole thing in your head for a couple of weeks now. Having Dustin has been both distracting and inspirational. You love your little girl, and you want another one, simple as that. It’s what you’ve been leading up to telling Karkat. He’s sitting there at the table going over case files and keeping an eye on Dustin in the living room. It’s all so perfect and domestic.

“ Hey, Karkat?”

In response you get a sound that sounds like either half-hearted acknowledgement, or he’s got something caught in his throat and is dying. You go with him listening.

“So I was thinking maybe we could have a second kid.” Your back is to him and you’re focusing on the stew, trying to make this whole thing casual. You hear more noise that sounds like he’s dying but you can clearly hear the question in his voice.

Turning, you rest your back against the counter and smile. You know how to read him, the slight quirk to his mouth, the affectionate way he glances into the living room, the relaxed state of his shoulders. He doesn’t hate the idea.

“I’ve been giving it a second thought and going over the science in my head. It could take some work, and I don’t believe that it’ll be any time soon, but I’m sure with the right backing and the right minds I could find a way to fuse troll and human DNA into one being.”

He freezes. You shift a little, anxious, waiting for his reaction. His face is blank, and you can tell he’s chewing over his words very carefully. This makes you nervous, because he usually says everything with a full helping of macho confidence and purpose.

“I like the idea of having another kid,” he says slowly, and you love him for starting with the issue that’s bothering you first and foremost, “but I don’t know how I feel about you Doctor Frankensteining a baby for us.”

You frown. “Karkat, it’s not Doctor Frankenstein science, that’s gross. I’m talking about creating a child here.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” he deadpans, “and I’m not comfortable with it.”

You frown. That’s not what you’re wanting to hear. You try a different tack.

“But…don’t you want something that’s part you and part me?” you wheedle. “I know it’ll take a long time, but—”

“You’re not listening,” he says, and he’s looking at you now, standing up. “What you’re suggesting is the plot of every bad sci-fi horror film in the last twenty years, six of which were made by Dave Strider. It would be dangerous and there’s no guarantee it would even work.”

Dangerous? What does he mean, dangerous? All you’d have to do is get a fully-equipped lab and some good assistants. What’s so dangerous about that?

“But I can do it,” you protest. “I know I can! I can definitely make it work if I just have some time and a lot of white boards and coffee!”

He walks towards you and plants his hands on either side of the counter you’re leaning on, looking you dead in the eyes. Behind him you notice that Dustin has gone still, watching you and Karkat.

“Jade,” he says, “no.”

You squash down the tendril of petulant anger. He’s being serious and succinct, which he never is at once.

“We can adopt,” he says, “or we can find a sperm donor. Those are our options. No crazy alchemic combinations of our DNA or any contrivance thereof. Okay?”

You stare back coolly.

“Okay.”

He didn’t say you couldn’t use _other_ people’s DNA, though.

You flip through your phone later and raise it to your ear.

“John? I have an idea, and it’s gonna sound crazy, but listen to this…”

==>Karkat: Worry

Mission accomplished. You’re also livid and frightened, if that makes any difference.

You thought the conversation was done with and Jade was gonna put those batshit ideas out of her head. But no, she went behind your back and got _John and Vriska_ in on her insanity. She couldn’t have chosen better targets; every time you walk by and they’re talking about it, there’s a very quiet, thin desperation in the way Vriska holds John’s hand and in the way John presses his mouth to her temple. They’re aching for a kid of their own. You understand that, but you are fucking terrified of the way Jade is going about it. It isn’t right.

You’re not strictly talking morality, but that plays in, in a way—it’s dangerous enough bringing normal babies into the world without making it a mutant. It’s been a long time since you actively thought of yourself that way, but you’ve always known it’s true—you’re a freak of troll nature. You aren’t supposed to exist. And neither is the thing Jade’s trying to make. You hold Dustin very tightly when you start errantly thinking about it, because if anything hurt her you’d go very…trollish. You can’t imagine how you’d feel if a little organism actually genetically descended from you and your wife got hurt.

That doesn’t mean you love Dustin any less, of course, but there’s something ever-so-slightly different about it being… _yours_ …that sets your teeth on edge and your hackles up.

You’re fielding questions about it every damn day now, ever since some rat leaked to the press what the mighty Harley Industries is rerouting a substantial chunk of funding into researching. People are going shithive maggots about it. You had to move to Harley Manor just for the extra security; someone tagged the pumpkin cottage and it took ages to scrub off. Your cruiser’s been keyed. You get a fuckton of angry calls and letters every day from people who say that you and your wife are going to hell for messing with gog’s creations. Scripture-thumpers are tacking their leaflets to your office window. And that’s just _you_. You don’t want to know what they’d do to Jade if they ever get close enough to her. Dustin stays with Uncle Gamzee a lot these days, and Uncle Gamzee learned a neat trick where he can keep up a miasma of chucklevoodoo just around the perimeter of his property to keep people away.

You think the worst part is that Jade comes home with her shoulders slumped and with ash on her lab coat and you have to pretend that everything is okay. Nope, no nature-defying science going on here, just a tired wife and a tired husband putting on a good face for their confused and crawling daughter.

You know it’s going to be a really bad day when she teleports directly into the bedroom, where you’re stretched out after putting Dustin down in her little miniature cupe, and falls face-down on the mattress without saying a word.

“Jade?” you say softly, rubbing her back under her hair. “What’s wrong?”

She turns her head and it’s fresh with tears. Your blood-pusher breaks inside.

“It was alive,” she murmurs. “For a few seconds, it was breathing in my hands, everything was working right…and then it just…flaked away. It _died_.”

You squeeze your eyes shut against nausea and take a few deep breaths.

“My fault,” she whispers. “It wasn’t ready to be out of its tube yet but it had a physical form and it was…it was so perfect…I don’t know why it turned to dust in my hands, I don’t know _why_ , it doesn’t even make scientific sense—”

You haul her up and crush her into your chest, smelling the chemicals on her skin and coat and trying to get her to stop talking. You love her so much but right now you are so scared of her.

“Jade,” you say gently, “I think you need to take a—a break.”

“A break?” she parrots blankly. “But—”

“A  break,”  you repeat, because telling her to stop will only push her further into her research, maybe further than you can pull her back out. “You’re overworking yourself. Dustin misses you. I miss you. We just want you to be home and safe.”

She doesn’t say anything and you sigh, quietly.

“Jade?”

She pulls away and you let her. She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door and for a very long time doesn’t come out. You fret and fiddle with your fingers and wish she’d just hurry the fuck up and get back out of there so you can actually _talk_ about this.

She does come out eventually, dressed down to her underwear and a pair of your boxers pulled over the top, and she slides into bed as far from you as she can get while still being in bed.

“I just want this to work,” she says, and you shuffle towards her and hug her tightly from behind, your nose buried in her hair. It smells like formaldehyde and coffee. “Why won’t it just work?”

You don’t answer. You just pray that she’ll stop soon.

==>Jade: Work

_Staying late at work tonight, hit a breakthrough. I love you._

Your research papers are scattered around the long metal desk and tacked to the walls with multi-colored string linking them. Pulling your long hair up into bun and out of your face, you set to work on the equations in front of you. You’ve been pulling a lot of long nights, but it looks as if it’s finally going to pay off.  

You have a theory now on how to get the two conflicting DNA sets to mesh well together without one over powering the other, or the whole thing turning on itself. There have been so many failed attempts, small creatures that _just_ barely showed what a mix of the two could look like. They were small and helpless and you had to watch them crumble to nothing. Picking up the tablet, you plug in the variables to the equation that you’re almost positive will give you the desired results. Or at least the answers to what had gone so horribly wrong last time.

There’s no warning except for a soft click before your world explodes in pain. The air is ripped from your lungs and you have a few seconds of flight before your body makes a rough impact with the wall next to you.

Bright orange and white flashes before your eyes for a brief moment before you give in to darkness.

==>Karkat: Panic

_Staying late at work tonight, hit a breakthrough. I love you._

You get the text about an hour before you are about to leave the precinct, and honestly, you aren’t surprised. She’s been pulling this for a while now, staying at work late, or bringing it home and locking herself up in the manor lab. Your feelings on the situation have been made clear many times. Many, _many_ times. You’re not okay with this. But she isn’t using _your_ genetic material, so apparently _your_ opinion doesn’t matter.

It’ll be another night of fixing dinner for Dustin, who’s learning to walk now—she falls a lot. Maybe you two could stay at the old hive for the night. It’s smaller, cozier. Less sharp edges for her to trip into. But do you want to risk the possible protestor storm if you leave the safety of the manor…?

You’re filing paperwork very near an hour later when the whole precinct gets quiet.  There is the rhythmic tone of the troll anchor that normally does the late night news. And for a minute, that’s all you can hear, which is strange; since when have these panleaks ever been quiet? There’s a TV mounted to the wall that’s permanently stuck on Altville’s Channel 5 News. It’s either the dozens of eyes on your back or the words of the reporter that chills the normally-hot blood in your veins. You have a good feeling which one it is.

“I repeat, there was an explosion at Harley Industries barely an hour ago. Authorities are on the scene, but as of now the casualty total is unconfirmed—”

The rest is drowned out by the sound blood rushing and screen shots.

 Jade. No…shit, _NO_!

You’re out the door with enough foresight to know that you shouldn’t drive in this state. Luckily, one of the new uniforms—a young yellow-blooded troll fresh out of the academy who appears to have taken a shine to you, whatever, can’t hurt to mentor the kid a little—follows you out the door. The flashing red and blue lights’ll help cut down on traffic, but it’s quiet, with neither of you willing or able to talk beyond a muttered “thanks”. Your nails dig into the door handle of the cruiser, and you can taste the tang of bright red blood welling up from in-between the teeth that are embedding themselves in your lower lip.

A slide show of the last couple of years forces its way into your thinkpan. Flashes of Jade back when you first met, when she was just a dorky braceface that hung around your apartment. The look on her face after your first kiss, and the look on her face shortly after you told her why you couldn’t be with her. Her announcement to the whole casino in Derse City that she was now Mrs. Karkat Vantas, her drink sloshing over the edge of her cup. The feel of her arms around your neck as you danced your first dance at your ‘actual’ Porrim-approved wedding. Her laugh, how she cuddles in the morning when she still isn’t fully awake, the flash of her eyes when she’s angry.

The first time she held Dustin, and the look in her eyes when she watched her sleep that first night.

The drive is the longest one of your life.

==>

The smell of smoke and gasoline crawls into your nose as soon as the cruiser door opens.  Red and white lights flash with a backdrop of orange and black clouds of smoke. There are three fire trucks parked outside what is left of the front of the building, twice as many ambulances, and a horde of news crews and police. Still, you can’t find Jade anywhere. You’re pretty sure this is what human hell is like.

Those last words from her text spiral around in your head, taunting you. _I love you._ You had been too angry to say it back, too sore that she was going against every warning you had given her about this. The world isn’t ready, and now you have to stand in the aftermath and search for the one being in this world that makes you feel a little less like a shitstain on the universe.

_I love you._

_Karkat, son, please, when you get this message, please call me back. I love you._

You have to physically stop yourself from hunching over and hyperventilating into your knees. Now is not the time to go weak-kneed over old mistakes ( _history repeats itself, doesn’t it, you fuckwit? Why didn’t you just tell her you loved her? Why didn’t you just pick up the phone?_ ).

Through the haze of utter chaos that is the parking lot of Harley industries, you hear a voice you haven’t in years.  The burly blueblood troll has two humans thrown over his shoulder and is helping them onto an ambulance. You vaguely remembered Jade mentioning him. Time isn’t working right, because the next thing you know, you have the bigger troll’s shirt fisted around the collar and are pulling him down to your height.

“Where’s Jade?”

Equius squawks. It’s hard for him to talk with his collar bunched around his throat, and you know this. You do not particularly care.

“Is Jade still in the building, Equius? IS SHE?”

He swallows and edges in a thick finger to ease the pressure on his throat. “I—I think she is, but we have not been able to get close enough to where we believe her lab is. The flames are—”

You drop him. That’s all you needed to know.

==>Jade: Come To

You aren’t sure if it’s you or the world that’s tilting, but you really hope it’ll stop. It’s hot, and it takes a few seconds for you to realize that the heat and dancing orange light are the same thing: fire. Though your head clears a little at the realization that your lab is on fire, your vision does not. Still, you need to gather all of your work before months go up in flames. First, the safe. It’s all useless if those samples are destroyed.

==>Karkat: Prepare to Do Something Stupid

You know enough not to run into a burning building. Gog, you’re not _that_ stupid. However, Jade’s always done things to your think pan. So you barely remember that you should at least soak yourself before running into the death trap that is now your wife’s office. You snatch up a nearby bucket of water with nary a blush (what have these humans done to you) and tip it over your head, soaking yourself. There are calls for you to stop, and your shirt and pants are now sticking to your skin in a slightly restricting manner. But who even gave a single solitary fuck? Not Karkat Vantas. You’ve got a wife to rescue, so none of that hoofbeast shit matters. You square your shoulders and march into the flames.

==>Jade: Locate Safe

It’s a little dinged up, but the safe in the wall is untouched, the two thin vials—both bright red in color and labeled in bright green sharpie—tucked away in their chilled case.  There aren’t much of the papers that can be saved, so it’s lucky that you have most of the equation stored in your head and on a backup hard drive at home. You gather up what you can, but the smoke is clawing its way into your lungs and your vision blurs more.  You’re grasping for a fistful of paper when you feel two arms pull you back.

==>Karkat: Rescue Wife

It’s hot and smoky and you can barely see two feet in front of you. Glass shatters along the floor, and you can see the point of impact, a dark black stain on the walls near the elevators. Assholes didn’t want anyone to get out. Her personal lab is on the ground floor in the very back, and needs two types of security clearance.  You keep your I.D. card in your wallet for occasions like this. Well, not like this, because nowhere have you ever thought to be prepared for the chance that a bunch of overzealous scripture purists would try to blow up your wife.

(You are going to hunt them down, take them all out back of a shady woodshed, and shoot all of them and leave them to rot in the woods, you swear on your mother’s grave you will.)

Getting in is easier than you thought, since the security measures are all down on this end of the building. You know you’re an idiot for not just waiting for the firemen, but this is _Jade_ and you are _not_ gonna let her die here. She’s barely standing in her lab when you get inside, swaying and holding onto a small case and snatching at burning research papers.

You try not to let your claws dig into her arms, really try, because as toned as Jade is, it won’t take much pressure to pierce her skin. So as much as you want to shake sanity back into that stupid adorable head of hers, you maintain your gentleness. It’s mainly the unfocused look she has and the fact that if you remove your hands from her arms you’re pretty sure she’ll fall over that stays your wrath. And also. Y’know. The damn fire raging around you. You try to get her to walk, but when it becomes apparent that she either can’t or won’t, you scoop her up in your arms and bodily carry her from the burning building. She looks bad, but that may just be the smoke. And also the blood coming from a gash on her head.

 

“Karkat…”

Your name kind of trails off, and she blinks behind the cracked and twisted frame of her glasses.  Honestly, how she managed to get out with the few injuries she had is some kind of miracle.  Gamzee must never know he thought that word (you don’t care you’ll sing miracles from the goddamn rooftops, just please let her be okay). You hold her a little tighter.

“I’ve got you, Jade. Don’t worry.”

As you pass through the fire (smaller, hoses are doing their work) and into the open air (relatively; still smoky as human hell), she blinks at you again and frowns.

“Karkat….where…where’s my research?” 

Oh no. She did _not_ just—the mindless dribble coming from her mouth can’t _actually_ be what she said. You must have hit your head in that fiery death trap. You set her on her feet, keeping an arm around her as she sways a little (she needs an ambulance and you can see the paramedics swarming already, just outside your vision, but they don’t matter right now, not yet).

“Jade.”

She does not appear to have heard. “We have to go back and…”

“I will write off the complete asinine babble that is leaking out of your mouth right now with the fact that you have a concussion,” you snap. “Since I find no other reason for you to be this _stupid_.”

“I…did..did you just call me stupid?” Her voice sounds clogged and she’s squinting when she looks at you, but you are deaf to the danger tones in her voice because she looks so pathetic. You breathe out harshly through your nose.

“Well, yeah, you are _acting_ pretty stupid, Jade. Just calling it like I see it.”

She shrugs off your arm and stands a little apart, glaring. She doesn’t look very steady to you, but holds her ground.

“This is my work, Karkat. It’s important to me.”

“Have you stopped to think that may be _you’re_ important to me, or, I don’t know, _our daughter?_ ” you shout, because you’re there, you’re at that point. “Jegus, Jade, _people just tried to kill you!_ They’ve been harassing us both for months! And for what? Your stupid fucking pet project that you obviously care more about than me!”

Her hair crackles with green static. You’ve done it now, but you don’t care, you don’t even _care_.

“This is something that can help everyone!” she yells back. “It’s not just about you and me anymore, this is something that can help _all_ interspecies couples, if I can just get it right! That’s important!”

“More important than your own _family?_ ” you shout back. You get the sense that there’s a ring of people around you that are too frightened of Jade’s increasing static output and your volume to get closer. Fuck ‘em. You’re in the middle of something here.

“Like _family_ matters that much to you!” she shouts, and you know where she’s going and hope she’ll stop because if she crosses that line—“This isn’t about your _mommy issues_ , this is about helping people who _actually_ care!”

You actually see red for a minute and you would like nothing more than to verbally tear her a new one. So.

“Then why don’t you just fuck off and marry them instead? You don’t give a shit about me, you don’t give a shit about Dustin, and I’m sick of trying to pretend that I’m behind you when I can’t even get you to see a single solitary granule of common fucking sense! People are _attacking_ us over this, and I don’t want to see our _actual_ child hurt because of YOU! If it’s so _important_ , why don’t you _leave. Us. The fuck. Alone!_ ”

“Fine! I will!” she screams, and in a huge boom of energy she disappears. You sway a little and are herded onto a gurney to have oxygen pumped into your respiratory system. You feel weak and drained and you want so bad to take everything back, but not until she apologizes first.

Oh, gog, what have you done?

==>Jade: Rage

You can’t really be Jade right now because she’s zapping things into oblivion back on the island and charging through a jungle half-concussed and full of piss and smoke. Come back later.

==>Jade: It’s Really Important

Not now! You’re busy pretending this stupid coconut is your stupid husband and you’re stabbing his fucking guts out because he’s _stupid!_

==>Jade: Come On, the Coconut?

Yes, the coconut! It had it coming! And also has delicious innards that will hopefully make your head stop swaying!

==>Jade: Be Later Jade

This is acceptable. You are now Later Jade. How much later? Two weeks.

You spent the worst of your rage by half-destroying the island, and then did the sensible thing and got medical attention for your concussion and other scrapes and bruises. You’re fine now. A little singed, but fine.

You are also sorry. Not for the project, of course, but you are really sorry that you overreacted to Karkat. He was obviously scared and worried and he wasn’t exactly calling _you_ stupid, just your actions. It’s the same damn thing, though! And he said you didn’t care about Dustin. Which is _really_ stupid. You love her more than anything.

…which is why you’re hiding on your island instead of going home. Yeah. Totally makes sense. Way to go, Jade, awesome job with the properly-firing neurons again.

Whether or not you love your husband…that’s still up in the air. Of course you still feel very strongly about him, but right now, it’s strongly negative. He told you to leave, so you did. There. Is he happy?

(You brought up his mother. Of course he’s not happy. You can’t even _believe_ you did that. If you had a time machine you’d go back and stop yourself from saying at least that, because _that_ was so far below the belt. You let everything else stand.)

But you still believe in your project and that it’ll help. John and Vriska are backing out of it, which you understand; John asked you at least five times if you were okay just in the first thirty seconds of the phone call. The only other DNA you have to work with is Karkat’s…and yours.

The lab out here is not as well-equipped as your lab back home is—was, sorry—but it’ll do, it has enough of the tools you need to make it work. But you can’t tinker very much because every time you look at the case containing his frozen genetic slurry the words you both said during that fight bubble up and you get so mad you have to walk away from science to shoot something. In the grand scheme of things, Karkat’s wrong when he says you’re making a mistake. He is. Because you just _know_ that once you can nail the science of it down, you’ll be able to help so many people who want a kid of their own.

You’re out back gardening when Callie finally comes. You were expecting her, in a way. Calliope is sort of the godmother of the group that came together to defeat the Batterwitch with Jane years and years ago, and she’s a dear friend besides.  And you know that a fight as big as the one you and Karkat are going through right now is probably shaking everybody else back home up. You think about your daughter and wince.

Callie sits calmly on a bench near you, looking prim and dainty even in a body at least three times your size.

“He’s being an idiot,” you say in place of greeting. Callie sighs.

There’s a look in her green eyes that you are just about tired of seeing.

“Granted,” the cherub replies in her sweet, high voice, “but darling, as ever, it’s a pot calling a kettle black with you and Detective Vantas.”

You scowl. “How am I being an idiot?” you ask, viciously attacking a weed with a trowel. “It’s not my fault that other people are having conniption fits over this! I’m just trying to make the world a better place, and help other interspecies couples. What’s so wrong about that? What’s so evil?”

“Your intentions are noble, Jade” she says gently, “and of course there are times when you must pursue your passions for the sake of innovation, but you must also be mindful of those you are putting in danger.”

“How am I putting _them_ in danger? _I’m_ the one getting blown up,” you try to laugh it off, but you feel regret and bitterness in equal turns. “Callie, think of the possibilities. Trolls and humans could have actual genetic offspring! Carapaces and trolls! Cherubs and humans!” Callie shifts, very slightly, but the motion draws your eye. “Cherubs and humans, Calliope, just think of it.”

“I am thinking of it,” she says calmly. “I think of it often.” She lays a large hand on your shoulder. “But I do not think the timing is right yet. The world is not ready for something like this. Not yet.”

You shrug her off. “I don’t agree.”

“I thought not,” Calliope says, mild as a lamb, “so I will say nothing more of the matter other than I strongly advise against it.”

“Thank you,” you say, a little gruffly.

“I would, however,” she says, standing, “advise that you go see your daughter as soon as possible. She’s quite an avid little walker now.”

You feel a deep, sharp pang. That’s right…you missed Dustin’s first steps because you were trying to coax a zygote into life. You wonder why they keep bursting into ashes instead of just bloodied clumps of tissue and wonder if you should study that instead, but then a very small voice, deep deep inside, says _no_.

And for whatever reason…you listen to that voice. Okay. You’ll put it aside. For now.

“And…perhaps one more thing, lest you think I’m being too heavy-handed,” Callie says, and digs out her phone. You remember with another pang that you let yours die a while ago and haven’t been checking your message. “A video message that Karkat tried to send you several days ago. I assume you haven’t seen it.”

You take the phone and press play. A little curly-headed troll girl pops up, big solemn grey eyes staring directly into the camera.

“Where Mama?” she asks in broken baby-babble. “No hug?”

You press your eyes tight shut. “Hug” is her way of saying “love”.

“No, Dustin, Mama still hugs you,” you hear Karkat saying from behind the phone. “She’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Home soon?” she tries to say, but it comes out _hoe shoe_ and you laugh.

“Home soon,” Karkat promises.

“Home soon,” you repeat, and hand Callie’s phone back.

Okay, then.

==>Jade: Visit Daughter

You feel sick to your stomach as you stare at the slightly-scratched wood of the front door. You know your little girl is in that house; there is nowhere else Karkat would leave your daughter while he’s at work but in the hands of his moirail. It’s not the fact that you know Gamzee is probably royally pissed at you—he can get in line for all you care—that’s making you hesitate. It’s the fact that your daughter, your perfect little mess of black hair and big grins, thinks that you don’t love her.

The door opens after you finally knock.

There’s a moment of silence where green eyes meet indigo and you have to wonder what Gamzee is thinking. Normally you’re pretty good friends, but normally you and Karkat aren’t fighting.

“ I’m here to see Dustin.” Though really that was probably obvious. You square your shoulders and lift your head, trying to give you as much height as you can (useless, he’s too tall, he’s gotta be inching up on eight feet soon).

“ Does Karbro know you’re up and being  here?” The words are drawn out and he’s leaning against the door way at ease like this is a normal chat between the two of you. As if you’re here to take him on another one of your Disney movie rerun bonding dates. It makes you angrier than any of the looks you’ve been getting since the fight started.

“ She’s my daughter, too. I don’t need his permission to see her.” There’s a rant bubbling in your throat about how you could pick Dustin up and take her to the island if you so chose, that your name is on those papers and you’re the little indigo wiggler’s mother just as much as Karkat is her father.

Gamzee looks at you, up and down, and leans into your space.

“Jade-sis,” he says, quiet and slow, “we’ve got a problem, you and me.”

You swallow down the prickle of fear and maintain he’s not going to intimidate you into anything. “I’m willing to talk it out after I’ve seen Dustin.”

He looks at you, all dark, and steps aside. You rush in and then have to stop, because there is a toddler around your knees and you need to pry her off and hug her and never, ever, ever leave her again.

“Mama! Mama! Mama!” Dustin shouts in your ear, and you laugh and hug her so close, you love her so much and you missed her, you almost missed _everything_. She shows you her colors and her blocks and her pile of dirty diapers, and you drink it in because you can’t believe how badly you ached to have her back in your arms again.

“Jade-sis,” Gamzee says quietly, and you turn to look at him, and surprisingly Tavros, who’s behind him, “I don’t want you to up and be getting my baby sis’ hopes in a knot if you’re about to drop all and leave again.”

“I’m not,” you say, sharp and a little hostile. “I’m not leaving her again.”

“And Karkat?” Gamzee says, and you frown.

“What about Karkat?”

“Have you talked it out yet?” he asks. “Made things right with my saddest of angry bros?”

You open your mouth to speak, but a rough voice interrupts.

“Why is the front door wide open, you dipshit? Anyone could walk in here!”

“Dada!” Dustin shouts, and leans for him when he clears the doorway, one arm still wrapped around your neck. Karkat freezes and looks at you. You glare at him.

“Gamzee, take her,” you say, and you make sure she’s tucked safely in the crook of Tavros’ arm before you march towards Karkat, who looks both alarmed and furious, and grab him by the collar. You zap away to someplace more private.

==>

You’ve never fought in the pumpkin cottage before, and you’re not sure what compelled you to bring him here, but here you are. It’s too sunny outside and you feel like it should be raining or at least gray, but that might be from an overexposure to his shitty romcoms.

“Listen, we are going to talk about this. Now.”  There is a bark-like quality to your voice that you only noticed since Dustin learned how to pull things off the table.

“Oh, really,” he hisses. “You’re done running away to isolated island and ignoring me. How nice. Let me just stop being fucking pissed off and deal with your childish hoofbeast shit.”

“Karkat—”

“No, you will fucking _listen_ this time, Harley.” It stings in some place buried by anger and bruised pride that he calls you by your maiden name.  He hasn’t done that since a legal document in Derse City changed your name to his. You shut up and you listen.

“ _You_ ran off, thus terminating _any_ right you had to speak. I haven’t seen you in weeks. WEEKS. All because I was right? ‘Cause I got fucking tired of you playing this selfish little game of you being your human god? Don’t even get me started on that beautiful display of a fried thinkpan when you ran off with a bleeding head and a fucking broken skull, for all I knew! All the while you refused to returned texts or calls. _Nothing_. For two whole weeks!”

You feel a brief moment between the powerful urges to punch him in the face, a moment where you realize how much you miss your angry nubby troll. The moment is strong enough for you to let go. _He wins._ Though you aren’t planning on telling him that. Not verbally.

You invade his personal space mid-tirade and you kiss him hard. He keeps trying to talk around you, so you back him into the fridge (maybe bang his head off it a little) and really _kiss_ him. He shuts up and for several long, hot moments, it’s your lips and tongues and a little bit of your teeth doing the talking. He blinks at you when you come up for air.

“Jade—”

Nope. You pull him down by the collar and you run your fingers through his hair and kiss him until he picks you up and sets (slams) you on the counter so he doesn’t have to bend over so far. You lock your legs around his waist.

“Are we really,” he says in between desperate kisses, “gonna do this now?”

“You gonna stop?” you ask. “Because I’m not.”

You get one of his horns in hand and he shudders a little.

“Nope,” he says, and picks you up again.

==>

You find yourself back in the pumpkin cottage bedroom, naked and spent once again, Karkat playing with your hair and your head on his chest. You both have a lot more scratches and bite marks this time, but hey, when you hatebang him, you make sure he feels the pitch. The cuddling is more your normal redder tone and nice.

“So what now?” he asks, and his voice is low and grumbly how it always is during cuddle time. Your mind is sharper and clearer than usual. Might be the dull pulsing pain of the bite mark at the base of your shoulder, but you think it’s something more akin to acquiescence.

“You win,” you say simply. “I’m gonna drop the experiment. No more late nights at the lab, no more ignoring the world. I’m done. You win.”

“Win?” he says, and sits up. “I—fuck, Jade, I never wanted to _win_. That’s not what this is about.”

You blink at him.

“I just wanted you to come home,” he says, and he cups your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. “Gog, Jade, you can do all the science you want, I just wanted you home and safe.” He presses his forehead to yours and you breathe him in. “I just want you _here_.”

You kiss him. “I’m so sorry about everything I said. Especially about your mother. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry I called you stupid and told you to leave,” he murmurs, and you kiss for a while and it’s nice. Simple.

“I’m not gonna do the experiment anymore,” you whisper as you both sink back into the pillows. “I’m done. I want to come home and see my baby grow up.”

One of Karkat’s hands rubs across your stomach, and it tickles a little.

“I still want another kid if you do,” he says gently, and you nod.

“Of course I do.”

He noses at your face until you look up into his eyes.

“If you want,” he says, hesitantly, “we can look up sperm donors. If you want to actually. Uh. _Have_ a baby.”

You consider it, look down at your body, and kiss him.

“We can talk about it later.”

Right now you want a long nap in your husband’s arms.

And later playtime with your daughter.

For now…that’s plenty for you.


End file.
